An Itch That Needs Scratching
by Valenka
Summary: Daryl Dixon. Negan just couldn't get him out of his mind; not his arms, not his fuck you attitude, not the way his hair hung down to obscure his face.


Daryl Dixon. Negan just couldn't get him out of his mind, and he'd tried. Oh had he tried, he'd lost track of how much pussy he'd buried himself in since Daryl had been locked up in that little room all naked and dirty with _Easy Street _on a goddamn loop. No amount of distractions had kept thoughts of that redneck at bay for very long though, Dixon just kept worming his way back into Negan's head.

He wasn't attracted to guys, that was what had initially puzzled the leader of the Saviors, he'd been a little bi-curious in college but then again who the fuck hadn't? He'd jacked off in the privacy of his own room last night thinking of sweet little Sherry and those long legs but he just couldn't find satisfaction... from any of his wives. Desperation to cum had pushed his mind to Daryl, to those rippling muscles and deep southern twang, to the blackish brown hair that hung over his eyes and his feisty nature. Before Negan had known he'd found his climax there was seed staining his hand and the top of his pants.

Days went by and nothing much changed, Dwight continued to irritate the shit out of him and Simon remained the only truly competent person around him; except for maybe Regina. Thoughts of Daryl fucking Dixon still clung to the front of his mind, that was how he found himself sat at his desk tapping his finger repeatedly on the hard wood like some out of time percussion act. Christ, that man was starting to drive Negan crazy.

"Fuck it."

He couldn't take it any longer, Negan got up headed down the mass of hallways to Daryl's cell; Lucille left behind rested against his desk. He wasn't just going to pin Daryl to a wall and fuck him, he wasn't a monster but maybe if he just had Daryl around him for a while things would die down? _Worth a shot. _Some of his people bowed as he passed, others backed away as fast as possible, Negan didn't really notice, he needed to see Daryl. When he got down there he found Dwight carrying a filthy looking paper plate towards the archer's cell.

"Dwight."

The blonde ground to a halt and looked up at Negan, an eyebrow rose when he realised Negan didn't have Lucille with him because, of course, that was mightily unusual.

"Yeah? I was just feeding the prisoner."

Negan looked down, the scent of dog food assaulted his nostrils. He sneered and batted the plate onto the floor, Dwight jumped back as a spark of fear suddenly thundered through him. Negan was wildly unpredictable at the best of times … and highly volatile.

"Get your ass to the kitchens and get Daryl something actually worth fucking eating." He ordered.

"What?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" The Savior leader loomed over Dwight then, all broad shoulders and dark eyes. "Go to the fucking kitchens!"

With that Dwight skulked off down the halls as fast as physically possible. Negan took a breath as he stood there quietly a moment; Dwight had always irritated the shit out of him. That fucking song filled his ears as he made his way to the door of Daryl's cell, he'd found it mildly amusing when he'd first heard it but now it just pissed him off; _still better than Justin Bieber. _Negan took out his master-key from his ever-present leather jacket and unlocked the heavy door with ease, unsure as to what exactly he'd find within.

He watched Daryl cover his eyes as light flooded into the dark, tiny room, still naked and covered in dirt. Upstairs Negan had a harem of wives clean and wearing $300 perfume but he still just wanted Daryl. _Why?_

"Hey Daryl." Said Negan softly as he crouched down to the other man's eye level. "How you doing?"

"How 'm I doin'? How am I fuckin' doin'? How do ya think ya sick fuck?" Snarled the archer but Negan just smiled.

"I know Dwight hasn't been treating you all that well, he's an asshole. Let's turn that music off shall we?"

The leather clad man rose to his feet and clicked off the stereo just outside of Daryl's cell, the silence was golden but Daryl quickly filled it. Negan had to admit, for a man curled up in a ball to hide his nakedness he was still kinda formidable, and Negan respected that.

"What d'ya want? I ain't tellin' ya anythin' about Alexandria."

"I know, I know." Negan squatted back down. "That's not why I'm here. You see, Daryl, I find myself mighty interested in where you came from, you don't fit in with Rick and those friends of yours. Why I bet in the old world half of them wouldn't have given you the time of day, yet you're ready to go to the gas chamber for them. I admire that, means you're a good man, better man than them."

"This goin' anywhere?" Growled Daryl.

"You're more like me than you know, sure we differ a lot too but who the fuck wants a carbon copy of themselves?"

Just then Dwight returned with a plate for Daryl, an apple and what looked like a ham sandwich. Negan didn't say a word just held his hand out for Dwight to pass him down the plate without even glancing up a him, then set it beside Daryl as though trying not to spook him. The redneck made no attempt to eat, didn't even shuffle an inch.

"Want me to do anything else?" Enquired the blonde.

"Get him something to wear. Quickly. And some bloody water."

Dwight nodded and was gone again.

"Daryl, I'll level with you, I think you deserve that much-"

"No shit!"

"Anyway, most of the problematic people here, or the ones we bring in start at the bottom. They do the cooking, the cleaning, they're on wall duty dealing with those dead motherfuckers. You ain't like them, Daryl. You're skilled and even though you were with Rick you've proven yourself as a solider." He chucked. "Now, I'm not fucking stupid enough to give you a gun or that sweet crossbow of yours but I don't want you way down at the bottom of the food chain. You're going to be my … what's the word? You know, means personal servant, it's not manservant, it's something French." Negan snapped his fingers with realization. "Ahh, yeah, valet. You're gonna be my valet, Daryl. What do ya say to that?"

"Fuck you!"

"Here you go, boss."

Negan almost jumped, when the fuck did Dwight come back? He tossed a folded pile of clothes and an unlabelled bottle of water down at Daryl's side, after a few seconds of debate he reached for them.

"Dwight, piss off. I'm sure Daryl here doesn't want you staring at his junk."

The scarred man grumbled something and then left for a third time not to return. Negan shot back to his feet and backed out the cell so as Daryl could pull on the sweats without the leader of the Saviors only a bloody foot from his cock.

"I ain't doing shit for ya." Said Daryl as he pulled the ugly ass jumper over his head; _what the fuck's with the 'A'?_

"Yeah you will. It's be my valet or back in the cell with your wide range of music." He grinned but Dixon didn't look impressed. "Come on, and bring your plate. We don't waste fucking food around here, Daryl."

Reluctantly Daryl obeyed and grabbed the plate before following Negan through the labyrinth of corridors, up three flights of stairs and into the cleanest room Daryl had seen since entering the building. Negan saw him spot Lucille rested against the desk and he knew Daryl thought about beating him to death with her but he wasn't stupid enough to try, not with Negan looking right at him anyway. The leather clad man wasn't offended in the slightest, had he been in Daryl's position he'd have had all the exact same thoughts; might have even taken the chance.

"Right, sit on the couch and eat. I'm gonna run you a bath."

"A what?!" Daryl's eyebrows shot up sandwich half way to his mouth.

"A bath. You need one, I won't let my nice, new Valet tread crap all over my clean floor. Sit."

Negan said the last word in a tone that left no room for arguing, Daryl sat himself down on the black couch and finally took a bite of his sandwich. If Negan wasn't mistaken Daryl hummed and it sent a wave of pleasure through his body straight to his cock. _It's fine, a few days of Servant_ _Daryl and I'll get sick of the sight of him. I'll get bored and he can go back down to his little room and I can get back to fucking my wives. _

In Negan's head it had been the perfect plan, in actuality not so much. The Savior leader had spent almost a full week with Daryl following him around doing as he was told and mouthing off occasionally. A fucking _week_ ! In that week Negan had realized just how bad an idea this whole valet thing had been, he'd not gotten sick of the archer, not one single bit, if anything he'd been enjoying having the shorter man around. Daryl said what was on his mind, pointed out when people were being cunts and Negan fucking loved it.

One week turned to two and then two weeks became a month and Negan still didn't want to return Daryl to his cell. He liked having him around, liked the banter. Of course Daryl had tied to escape multiple times and return to Rick at Alexandria but each time had ended in failure. Every time Dixon had given it the old college try Negan had beaten the shit out of him, said it was a reminder that there were always consequences but in reality Negan knew it was something else, Negan hated the idea of Daryl not being there, wanted to break him and make the redneck stay. After a month had rolled around to six the escape attempts had trickled into nothingness; the archer had given up it seemed.

That series of events was what had led to Negan sitting at his desk in the late evening just staring the blank wall across from himself. He'd never been attracted to men before and yet there was Daryl enticing him without even trying. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ Negan didn't care if you were gay, straight, bi, demisexual or fucking a plant pot, each to their own, but he'd got no idea what had drawn him so strongly to Daryl Dixon.

Speak of the devil, the blue-eyed redneck entered then carrying a plate with in his hands. The bearded man had hated seeing Daryl in those hideous sweats after a while and had found him some real clothes to wear; a pair of loose black jeans and a grey button down. It hadn't taken very long for Daryl to rip the sleeves off of said button down but Negan didn't care since he'd gained a better view of the gun show.

Silently Daryl set the dinner plate down before Negan then stepped away to the wall beside the door to await new instructions.

"Thank you, Daryl."

As of late the redneck had been very well-behaved, hadn't started any fights, hadn't tried to escape, but he'd also grown very quiet and curled in on himself; Negan didn't like that.

"You not gonna talk to me tonight, Daryl?" Negan enquired as he skewered a piece of meat with his fork. "Nothing?"

"... What ya want me to say?"

There was still a bite to his words but it hadn't got the hate and hiss Negan had known months earlier. He'd taken Daryl out of that cage to satisfy an itch but now he wondered if he'd broken his toy too badly.

"Anything you want. We can have a fucking conversation, you know."

Daryl just shrugged, he'd never been an overly talkative person but what could he possible say to Negan without it ending in something along the lines of _'_ I hate you, you fucking cunt, let me go back to my family'?

Suddenly the redneck's stomach grumbled and Negan's honey chocolate orbs flashed up at him.

"When did you eat?" He asked with a smile, he'd meant it as a joking icebreaker.

Daryl didn't look up. "Before ya woke up when I was making ya breakfast."

Negan raised an eyebrow, that had been like seven o'clock that morning and he was positive the hour had neared nine if the noise and darkness outside his windows were anything to go by. Daryl should have eaten regularly, he'd made sure to give him a reasonable amount of points for his work as Negan's valet.

"Why didn't you have dinner?"

Daryl shrugged again. "My points go to my room, it's a piece o' shit but away from folk."

Then it struck Negan, rooms – especially private ones – were expensive and usually reserved for his Saviors. Daryl wasn't a social person, and still classed as the enemy by many at The Sanctuary, so of course he'd prioritize a room over eating.

Suddenly Negan felt bad that he was say there with a large plate of food he didn't particularly feel like eating while Daryl stood there hungry and staring at the floor. Had that been one of his wives Negan probably would have made a fuss of eating just to piss them off but not with Daryl. He wanted Daryl safe, fed and well cared for. _What the fuck has happened to me? _

"Come here." He ordered and Daryl glanced up questioningly.

"What?"

"Do as you're fucking told, Daryl. Come here." He said a little firmer and was pleased to find Daryl obey after a moment.

The archer shuffled closer to the desk but paused when Negan pushed his chair out a little and pointed at the floor beside his feet. Daryl shot an eyebrow up.

"I ain't fuckin' kneeling for ya."

Negan grinned that trademark smirk of his. "Didn't say you had to kneel, Indian style is fine."

Where his head had gone Negan didn't quiet know but he was strangely okay to let it all play out before him.

Reluctantly Daryl sat down on the ground beside Negan's feet, body tense and ready to flee. Though, instead of being turned into a foot rest or something as equally degrading Daryl found a piece of meat held down to him. Blue eyes flashed up to Negan's brown ones that had an unusual glint in them then back to what he was pretty sure was lamb. Slowly he reached up to take the food but found it pulled away from him.

"Uh-uh, try again." Negan teased.

A dog. Daryl was going to be treated like a fucking dog. The archer thought he should have seen some shit like that coming, Negan had been increasingly nice to him so of course some new twisted mind game had been coming.

Negan waggled the meat before his face but Daryl refused to eat from his hand. Then his stomach growled again.

"Come on, Daryl, before it goes cold."

"Not ya fucking dog!"

Negan seemed taken aback, he'd not thought about that. His bearded face remained stoic but on the inside he was grinning ear to ear, wide like the Cheshire Cat. A pet! That could be fun. Maybe it would snap Negan out of his want for the other man. _Turn him in to a pet, make him a play thing and boom. I see him as a little play thing and get bored of those fucking arms. _

"Why not? You might like it."

"Fuck you!" Daryl growled; Negan really wished Daryl would stop saying things like that.

"One piece, just for me. Go on, you're hungry and I've got a whole plate."

With a sigh and knowing he'd not get out of this, Daryl reluctantly stretched his neck out a little and accepted the piece of lamb into his mouth. It was still warm instantly filled his mouth with flavour; God he'd been so hungry. Daryl's stomach growled louder, calling out to Negan which got a smile from the Savior leader. Another piece was cut and fed to Daryl, then another and another and before either man knew it the whole place had been emptied and Daryl was left licking Negan's fingers clean.

It had been that very second when Negan realized turning Daryl into a pet wouldn't calm his want for the redneck, no, now he just wanted him more.

Slowly Negan started to thrust his fingers back and forth in Daryl's mouth while his valet sucked on them. He angled his chair around to get a better look but a squeak sounded and snapped Daryl out of it; he pulled away, Negan's fingers slipped from his mouth with a pop.

"No, no, carry on, Daryl."

"No." The man on his knees snapped though the embarrassment in his tone wasn't lost on Negan.

Ever so slowly the bearded man reached out to cup Daryl's cheeks and their eyes locked. Daryl wanted to hate him, he really did, but no one had tucked him with such tenderness since before the world went to shit. Sure Carol had hugged him and flashed him smiles but he'd always felt as though she'd been mothering him in some way. Then there was Beth, sweet, innocent, Beth. If she'd lived maybe they could have grown into something more than they had been but she'd been so much younger than him. And Rick? Well, he'd been permanently friend-zoned there. They were brothers, nothing else.

Negan raked his fingers through Daryl's messy hair and Daryl found his eyes fluttered shut as a vibration of pleasure cascaded down his body. This was wrong, he knew that, Negan had killed his friends, his _family_ , but he couldn't drive away that pleasure. Over the months he'd been at The Sanctuary he'd started to realize Negan wasn't actually that much of a monster – a realization he'd hated. The man had killed yes, but Daryl and his group had killed, they'd attacked the Satellite Outpost, killed people in their sleep, were they really any better than Negan's lot? He wondered how he would have thought about Rick, Michonne and the others had he started out with Negan's Saviors. It pained Daryl to admit but The Saviors and Rick's group were as bad as each other; it was perspective that made it seem like one was worse. The only time Negan had hurt him was when he'd tried to escape and Daryl knew that back at Alexandria they'd never have let him out of his cell.

"What's going on in that brain of yours, Daryl?" Negan asked softly in that deep voice of his.

Daryl snapped out of his thoughts and back to the world around him. Why did it have to be Rick's group or Negan's group? Why couldn't everyone just realize the real enemy was the dead and work together? _Fucking pipe dream_.

"Nothin'" Was Daryl's only answer.

Negan flashed a smile. "Oh, I think a lot more goes on in there than folk give you credit for. See a redneck and think you're stupid, but you're not, are you, you're probably smarter than most people in this factory."

"Didn't even finish school." Daryl muttered more to himself than Negan but the bearded man still heard it.

"There's a difference between intellect and education, Daryl."

That might have been the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him … and wasn't that depressing.

Negan's fingers continued to rake through Daryl's hair but the redneck found he wasn't as opposed to it as before. When he glanced up the leather clad man again he saw a softness in Negan's eyes that Daryl hadn't thought him capable of, almost as though Negan actually _cared _about him.

Daryl's body moved without his permission, slow at first, as he pushed himself up onto his knees, eyes still locked with Negan's stunning hazel ones. Negan spread his legs a little so as Daryl could fit himself into the gap between them and then their lips met, slow and and cautions at first but soon the kiss grew into something else. Their tongues met in a battle for dominance that Negan quickly won, their foreheads touching every now and again when they separated for air before letting their lips brush against each other's once more. Daryl's scent flooded Negan's senses, their kiss wasn't innocent more like a tease, hot, fiery, passionate and demanding.

When they broke apart the two men just stared at one another unknowing as to what was happening. Until a few minutes ago Daryl had hated the bearded man while Negan had just been trying to get rid of his fascination with the archer.

"What's happening?" Asked Daryl before he knew he'd even spoken.

" … I don't know, baby boy, but I fucking like it."

Then Negan's lips were back on his, harsh and wanton. Daryl honestly didn't know how they'd gotten here and he was certain he'd probably have a voice that sounded suspiciously like Rick in the back of his head hating him for it later, but there and then Daryl just wanted to feel.

Both men had an itch that needed scratching.


End file.
